The Party
by Skunktrain
Summary: Some sobering thoughts from after the war


The Party  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned anything worth publishing, would I post it here? Let me know before you post this anywhere else, thanks.  
  
Authors note: the setting of the story is immediately after the Yeerks are repelled how and at what costs I leave to the discretion of the reader. For the story it doesn't matter.  
  
When the man woke up in his own bed, it was the weirdest sensation for him. After having spent so much time living with the Chee, Ax, and the free Hork-Bajir being in his own room was quite possibly the most bizarre thing he had ever experienced. He looked at his clock; the red LED denoted the time as being 3:00 PM. This was not unexpected because he had not had a decent night's sleep in years and last night was no exception. He'd gotten home at nine and went straight to bed, whether because of the sheer exhaustion or because he wanted the oblivion sleep had to offer is unclear. One thing is though: his memory had other ideas. He had woken up screaming at least eight times since he'd gone to bed before he lost count. There were all kinds of dreams: that fateful meeting with Elfangor, the discovery that Tom was infested, when he learned of Tobias' fate, the first time he'd suffered a fatal wound while in morph, the time Jake was infested, David, the incident with the time matrix, every single time he had the misfortune to meet with Crayak the Elemist or Drode, every time he had been to the Yeerk pool - and those were just the ones that woke him up. The thought occurred to him, and if he hadn't been so tired he would have thought it was hilarious: Visser One had set out to destroy all who stood against him, and only through his defeat had he succeeded in destroying their lives. Really, what was he going to do? Go back to school? Worry about getting dates? Get a job? Pretend it never happened? He couldn't and wouldn't do that last thing. The Visser may not have enslaved humanity, but he had secured the only path for victory in his personal vendetta against the Animorphs.  
He wanted to sleep more, but he had a party to go to.  
Freed controllers had sponsored a party for the original Animorphs (the new members had declined to go on the grounds that no matter how many battles they fought they never had to make the sacrifices the others had); the press was everywhere. The Animorphs were glad to discover that the microphones were incapable of recording thought-speech. Desiring some semblance of privacy everyone morphed flea and hitched a ride on Ax into the building where the party was being held. They did this because the reporters wouldn't mob Ax because they knew that any statement he gave they could not broadcast. Having reached the small building where the party was to be held everyone hopped off and demorphed. Everyone had requested one company to cater the event written it on a piece of paper and then pulled one out of a hat, Ax won. Therefore, the table had a most gorgeous array of cinnamon buns. Which was just as well because Ax was the only one that actually ate anything, the one Tobias had written said "anything except the once living flesh of small woodland creatures". Aside from the six of them the room was completely devoid of people.  
For the first hour, nobody said a word. Occasionally they would hear the people outside. For the most part however, they just sat and watched Ax work his way through the cinnamon buns. Despite his love for cinnamon buns, Ax was subdued and could not distinguish any difference between them and cardboard - and bad cardboard at that.  
Nobody knows who was the first to break the silence.  
"So what now?"  
No one said anything. Ax stopped eating. This was the question that they all had to face though none had an answer.  
It's impossible to say who started crying first but within seconds everybody was. Although Ax and Tobias were so unused to being human while they weren't physically crying, internally they were and no one would have doubted them for it. When the crying had wound down to a sniffle Marco changed the subject.  
"Remember that time when we first met the Helmacrons?"  
There was a chuckle of relieved laughter. The people reminisced about some of the more absurd things that happened. As they were running out of things that were pleasant, not so pleasant, and less-than-horrifying someone suggested then they write a speech for the press. After much debating, lobbying, and grief the speech was agreed upon.  
"It was Hell."  
Marco mused that the speech would come as a relief to anyone who would ever be forced to memorize it.  
Hours later when everyone had decided to go home it could have been observed that although many topics were opened and thoroughly discussed, the entire time they were in there the only true and honest things came from that first question.  
As each person left the building they swore, independently and privately, to never lay eyes on each other as long as they lived. There were too many scars; scars left not on the body but the heart, and none could ever be truly human again.  
  
PS: Okay I updated the story mostly because the day after I posted it 50 came out and the events in 50 invalidated my fic, also I edited it and fixed my grammar mistakes and filled out ideas I left hanging. Also I created a story patch for the changes made in 50, it is sloppy and obvious so please leave it at that. If you do review: be gentle, this is still the only thing I have ever written for fun and I am emotionally fragile. Additionally, I fully uderstand that my ending will not be popular with many people, live with it. 


End file.
